


as the days keep turning

by freezerjerky



Series: it's coming into sight [5]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Birthday, Discussion of Mortality, M/M, but mostly just, farmhouse newt au, very mild suicidal ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:40:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22321213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freezerjerky/pseuds/freezerjerky
Summary: Still, the one white lie Newt allows himself is not telling Hermann when the greys emerge (and they always do.) He loves them, the four at Hermann’s temple, the three on his chest, the others down lower, and counts them as they emerge. They’re not a reminder of aging, Newt thinks, but a small signal of the years ahead of them.“Mm, Newton, it’s too cold to be awake,” Hermann mutters, reaching out for him. They haven’t left bed yet. This is a very rare occurrence as it’s nearly ten, and Newt can only imagine how fussy the chickens will be when he finally emerges to care for them, but he doesn’t care. Today is a special day.in which Newt wakes on the morning of his 50th birthday
Relationships: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Series: it's coming into sight [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1221719
Comments: 12
Kudos: 44





	as the days keep turning

**Author's Note:**

> It's me again with farmhouse Newt again. I keep saying to myself that each thing I write will be the last, but between this and a few drabbles I've posted on my twitter, it's time to accept that's not going to happen. 
> 
> Anyway, today is Newt Geiszler's 30th birthday (January 19th, 2020) and I'm looking ahead 20 years in the future to his 50th here- Happy birthday you wonderful bastard.

Hermann’s hair is sticking up in angles Newt wasn’t even aware existed. Newt’s never been good at math, of course, and he doesn’t have to be. Even in the dimness of morning, he can see the greys at Hermann’s temples. He’s unsure if Hermann’s aware of these or not- maybe Hermann’s finally letting them do what they wish. For a man so enamoured with his husband’s greying hair and beard, Hermann still remains persistently vain about his own hair. No one but Newt needs to know about the box dyes and the hours spent sighing over the bathroom sink. Those are his to keep tenderly to himself.

Still, the one white lie Newt allows himself is not telling Hermann when the greys emerge (and they always do.) He loves them, the four at Hermann’s temple, the three on his chest, the others down lower, and counts them as they emerge. They’re not a reminder of aging, Newt thinks, but a small signal of the years ahead of them.

“Mm, Newton, it’s too cold to be awake,” Hermann mutters, reaching out for him. They haven’t left bed yet. This is a very rare occurrence as it’s nearly ten, and Newt can only imagine how fussy the chickens will be when he finally emerges to care for them, but he doesn’t care. Today is a special day.

“If that was the case, you’d sleep all winter.” Newt all but disappears under their oversized quilt in order to move closer, nonetheless. “I’ve been trying to fatten you up.”

“Lentils can only do so much for a man when he uses all his energy shivering.”

“You poor, poor creature.” In the past, Newt knows, he’d see warning signs in any small phrase like this. If Hermann is cold, he’ll leave me. If Hermann doesn’t like my cooking, I’m lacking. And sometimes those thoughts still creep in, as does the reality that there’s never a guarantee Hermann will never leave him. It’s just that with each year it seems more and more likely the leaving will be of a permanent, world darkening kind.

Newt’s reminded, on this morning more than others, of his own mortality. About half a year prior, they’d had a serious discussion about wills and plots and all sorts of words Newt never wants to hear connected to Hermann’s name. He thinks with dread of the moment it will come, like the snapping of a bone- so clean and yet so unfixable. It’s not the sort of thing that can heal, he doesn’t know how healing can come. 

On that occasion, Hermann had pulled him aside afterwards, on their front porch, and laid something bare that Newt didn’t want to see, that Newt needed to see.

“It is likely, Newton, that I will go before you,” he had explained that night. “And I want you to continue to be you, do you understand me?”

He understood Hermann clearly, but he pretended not to. There were tears in his eyes, and he couldn’t see Hermann well enough to see but could only wager that he was crying as well. Waiting until night made perfect sense. It was protection.

“You talk like we’re old men now, Hermann,” Newt answered, half deflecting. He cannot promise, no matter what, that he’ll continue with Hermann gone. “We’re young still, aren’t we? They don’t call it mid-life for no reason.”

Now, on the day of Newt’s mid-life, he understands Hermann’s mood even more than before. They are, perhaps, not young men any longer. But that doesn’t change that they have years ahead.

“Is there anything more substantial than legumes I can give you?” Newt teases, peeking his head out from the covers.

Hermann’s grinning at him as he pulls him closer. They melt together for a moment, in the tenderness of a morning kiss. Newt knows his morning breath is not pleasant, and Hermann tends to be uncoordinated before he’s fully awake. It’s still absolutely perfect each and every time. Newt sometimes has to scold himself for letting time make him too comfortable with this, too content to not try to punish himself for allowing any happiness of this sort into his life. When did he start believing he actually deserved a content life?

This morning he’s even bold enough to shift closer, to let his hand wander down Hermann’s side, to his hip. Under the covers, Hermann’s wearing one of Newt’s old sweatshirts and a pair of thermal underwear. There’s nothing latently sexy about it, but Newt loves seeing him dressed like this. Warm, comfortable, at home. 

“Mm, not this morning, Newton,” Hermann ventures. “Not that I don’t want to, it’s your day, but I don’t think I can this morning.”

“Oh, that’s alright.” Newt presses a kiss to Hermann’s throat. “Maybe later.”

“I’ll definitely do something for you later, if nothing else.” Hermann returns the kindness with a kiss to his forehead.

This isn’t a new development, the lack of cooperation of bodies, but it’s something Hermann’s grown more comfortable with articulating. It might mean intimacy is less frequent than it was the first year they were together, but it does mean there’s less frustration when it does occur. Newt would trade any small happiness of mind for base pleasures, that’s a grace that age has given him.

“You don’t have to.” Newt stretches, and rolls away with a yawn. 

“Do you remember my birthday, Newton?”

“Mm, something about little blue pills and a rodeo. We already celebrated one fiftieth, what’s another?”

“A milestone.”

Newt leans over to kiss the tip of Hermann’s nose before he sits up. Bertrand is sleeping curled up on the foot of their bed. He hadn’t even noticed. They’ve recently acquired a kitten in addition to Bertrand, but he’s likely off creating trouble somewhere. Hopefully not in Newt’s knitting.

“I don’t think I’ve really done anything to celebrate.”

“We all know that’s not how birthdays work, darling.” Hermann, a bit slower, sits up beside him. “It’s a celebration of getting here. To another year. Lord knows you’ve been through enough.”

Despite a determination he didn’t know was there to be happy, Newt’s face shifts into a frown. 

“Something wrong, darling?” Hermann’s always a bit heavy on the darlings when he’s concerned, or feeling sentimental. Newt really doesn’t want to mind, he’d like to drown in the sound of Hermann calling him absurd pet names. That’s what he wants to hear when he drifts off.

“I didn’t think I’d get here,” Newt answers, his voice small. “I’m not sure if I should even be here.” The second part of that bubbles out of him, he’s discovered that it’s becoming harder to keep his thoughts where they belong. He blames his therapist for this. He refuses to acknowledge that this is simply his nature, this is how he once was. Sometimes, he will consciously do everything in his power to be who he once was.

“Of course you should be here.” Hermann wraps an arm around him. “And I’m so happy you are here.”

“There are other people who-”

“Today is not the day for guilt, no day is the day for guilt, but I will not allow it in my bed on my husband’s birthday.” Hermann’s face is comically stern and it melts something inside of Newt.

“But I-”

“Newton Geiszler, today you are fifty years old and-”

“Gottlieb.” Newt interrupts, biting his cheek. At times he loathes himself, but he loves how easily Hermann can make him smile, can make him forget all of the self loathing.

“What?”

“Newton Geiszler-Gottileb. We’ve been married for two years now.”

“I knew you for approximately two decades prior to then, apologies.” Hermann’s expression is a mixture of cross and incredibly fond. Before Newt lets him continue with his speech, he kisses him. It is an absolute necessity in the moment.

Hermann’s biting his lip when Newt pulls away, blushing slightly like someone who has never been kissed. Once, Newt asked Hermann about this face and Hermann only blushed deeper until he admitted that in these moments he was just awed that Newt would want to kiss him. It was the exact expression he wore after their first kiss, that summer night on the front porch.

“Okay, please continue,” Newt says, nudging him.

“Newton Geiszler-Gottlieb,” Hermann makes sure to place emphasis on the second of the two last names. “Today is your fiftieth birthday. You are going to get up and feed your chickens and those damned goats and-”

“The equally damned pig.”

“The equally damned pig and when you come in, we’ll have breakfast which I will make. Then we will have a quiet day, until we go into the city for a dinner with our friends, which will end exactly at the time I’ve listed because I intend to take you home and have my way with you tonight.”

Newt laughs and pulls him in for another kiss, then another, and it’s only after the third that he dares to pull away. There’s work to be done this morning, but he’ll allow himself to celebrate today. For Hermann’s sake, if no one else’s. If he’s honest with himself, it’s for his own as well. That’s perfectly fine with him.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on twitter @ newtguzzler and tumblr @ pendragoff


End file.
